


the pilot's lost his mind

by thebrobecks



Category: Bandom, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Child Abuse, Equestrian, Homelessness, Horseback Riding, Horses, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-06-09 22:57:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6927364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebrobecks/pseuds/thebrobecks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At seventeen, Josh leaves his home, never to return again. He wasn't sure what to expect, but he definitely didn't think he would befriend the son of one of the best equestrians in the state.</p><p>(weird summary, ik. just go with it my dudebro)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. never getting home tonight

Josh rummaged through his bag for probably the millionth time that night, making sure he had everything he needed. Money, clothes, water, some food, his phone charger, other assorted items... Yeah, everything he'd managed to hide in his room over the past year was there. It's not like it could just vanish out of the bag in the three minutes since he'd checked it last.

He counted the money again, flicking through the thin paper bills with shaking fingers. He didn't know how he'd managed to keep his second job a secret, what with the sometimes late hours. His parents usually took most of his paychecks from the grocery store, leaving him with barely enough to buy a burger at McDonald's. They claimed it was because he wasn't ready to handle money yet, but he knew the truth. The amount of times he'd seen empty bottles of alcohol flying towards him were proof enough of that. 

Josh chewed on his lip as he tucked the money back into its pouch. He had put so much thought into this, planned it out so carefully. Matches, in case it got cold at night and he needed to light a fire. A Swiss army knife carefully concealed in a hidden pocket. Two blankets folded up as small as possible, for when the nights got cold. He'd been ready for weeks, but he'd never gotten the chance. Until now.

His parents had gone out for the night, leaving him alone in the house. He knew that when they came back, they would most likely be so drunk they couldn't walk straight. Josh couldn't take another night of his drunken parents' abuse; this had been going on so long, he feared he would snap soon. That was something Josh wanted to avoid at all costs, for something as small as a simple breath in the "wrong tone" could result in serious consequences that he didn't really want to remember in detail. 

He zipped up the bag, trembling with anticipation. This had to be the most extreme, irreversible thing he had ever done, and the thought of what he was about to do filled him with dread. Once he did it, it was final. No going back, lest he probably be killed. 

He pulled his coat on, leaving it unzipped. It was near the middle of May, but it was cool enough here for him not to sweat to death in the coat. Besides, it wasn't like he could fit it in the bag. It was already filled to the brim, barely able to zip. Josh also pulled on his favorite beanie, for good measure. He slung his backpack over his shoulders and looked around his room for the last time. He wouldn't miss this place; the lamp that never stopped flickering, the dents and scratches in the walls from his parents' rage. The old, rickety vents that constantly rattled and never did much to cool the house down in the summertime. The only thing he might miss... Josh looked up at his old riding helmet, hanging on a peg on the wall. That helmet, and the ribbons he'd won that were hung around it, were his only reminder of a time when things were better. When his parents still let him have things and enjoy life. Josh closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

The slamming of a car door made his eyes snap open in shock and fear. What the hell? They weren't supposed to be home for another couple of hours... This was bad. No, _no_ , this shouldn't be _happening_. He had to go _now,_ or he was dead meat.

Josh yanked the window open, barely able to breathe. His fingers scrambled to pop open the pesky mesh screen his parents had installed when he was younger. Finally, the stupid old thing came off with a squeal of the rusted hinges. He tossed it onto the grass and almost dove through the window in his desperation and panic.

"Joshie! We're _home!"_ Crap. They were in the house.

Josh pulled his bag off his shoulders and threw it out the window. He couldn't get through if he kept it on. He heard footsteps coming down the hall, and leapt out, silently thanking whoever called the shots up there that his house only had one story. Snatching his backpack from the ground, he threw it back on his shoulders and took off at a sprint into the woods behind his house.

He'd explored practically every inch of them when he was younger, and immediately found one of the paths. He was too shaken to remember where it would take him, but it didn't matter. He was going to get as far away from his parents as he could.

Leaves from low-lying branches smacked his face as he tore down the path, his lungs taking in huge gasps of air that were from both his panic and running. It didn't take long for his legs to get tired, so he slowed to a walk once the lights of his house were no longer visible. The forest was nearly pitch-black, but Josh didn't dare use up his flashlight's or phone's battery to light up the path. It wasn't like he was going to actually get lost, even though he didn't really have any idea where he was at the moment. Once it was light outside again, he would be able to find his way to...wherever he was going. He probably couldn't stay in the woods, that would be the first place his family would search. 

He walked with a little spring in his step. Sure, the reality of what he just did hung over him like a wet blanket, and he couldn't go back, but he was _free_. No more living in fear of a random beating. No more silently tending to his wounds in the bathroom in the dead of night, when his parents wouldn't catch him out of bed. The thought of finally being away from his parents made him feel almost giddy. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Of course, his thoughts eventually went to how he was going to get by. He probably wouldn't be able to rent an apartment yet anyway. He was only seventeen, and all he had was about nine hundred dollars. He only worked three hours at most at his second job, and went in about once a week. His employer, Mr. Toro, was almost too understanding, not even minding that sometimes Josh wasn't able to show up. 

Speaking of his old job... Couldn't he just go back there tomorrow? It would save him the hassle of having to apply to a bunch of different jobs and potentially explaining his situation. He could even start working full shifts. No school or shitty grocery store job to worry about. Sure, he'd probably have to tell Mr. Toro why he suddenly had no restrictions on when or how long he worked, but it was better than nothing.

Today was Friday. It was always his favorite night to work at the café, because they had an open mic night every other week. Usually, he would never miss it, but, well, tonight was an exception.

Maybe tomorrow, Josh would go in to the café, and speak to Mr. Toro, and get all this figured out. For now, he just needed to find a place to sleep. The woods were only getting more dense as he walked on, and he had to hold his hands out to keep from walking face-first into a tree trunk or low-hanging branch.

Looking around, all Josh was able to see in the darkness were bushes and thin trees. If he found a cluster of rocks, he might be able to lay down and try to get some sleep. Or, he could keep walking until he found a road. Neither option seemed very appealing, but Josh also didn't really want to walk until he reached the other side of the forest. Even though he knew his way around the town well, it would take way more time to find his bearings if he kept going.

The faint sounds of water caught his attention. He continued towards the sound, because if it was the creek he thought it was, there were plenty of large rocks he could attempt to sleep on. Josh pulled his phone out of his pocket, switching it on. The screen was at the lowest brightness already, but the light still hurt his eyes after his being in the dark for so long. The clock read 2:14 AM. Had he really been away from home for almost four hours?

He shook his head. He didn't need to think about home right now. Josh turned his phone screen away from him, illuminating the path for a couple feet in front of him. He squinted, making out the faint shape of a rock cluster a few yards to his left. Walking towards it, he saw that there was a relatively large, flat spot on one of the rocks. Sighing, he took out the blankets and shook one free of its careful folding. He placed the unfolded one down on top of the rock and laid down, putting the other under his head as a pillow. It wasn't the best arrangement but... It would have to do. 

Josh stared up at the canopy of trees, feeling the enormity of his situation press down on him for probably the third time that night. He realized that he was scared. Terrified, even. Now that he was out, he had to make sure he wasn't caught. If his parents found him, or somebody turned him in... Josh didn't want to think about what would happen.

He'd also never been fully responsible for his own self before. His parents always had _something_ in the shelves or the refrigerator, even if that something was a box of crackers or stale cereal. His parents didn't really go grocery shopping all that often. Maybe once or twice a month. And they did pay the bills, and put a roof over Josh's head. Even though they were shitty, he was grateful for the few good things they did do. But now, he had nobody but himself to do those things.

He felt a couple hot tears begin to run down his face. _Shit_...

_It really is just me against the world._


	2. say it ain't so

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> josh is clumsy and nervous

" _Joshua William Dun!_ Get your ass back home _now_!"

Josh snapped awake at the sound of his father's angry voice, ice cold fear closing his throat. Shit, shit, _shit_ , how could he have slept this late? He should have known that they would come looking for him, and his father sounded way too close for comfort. Josh threw himself off the rock, balling up the blankets and stuffing them into his bag. They would barely fit, and he didn't have the time or the strength to yank the zipper completely shut. Panicking, Josh slung the bag over his shoulder and crashed through the woods. His dad would probably hear him, but Josh was too terrified to care.

He recognized his surroundings, and turned so that he was running towards the heart of town. That way, he would be able to get to the café faster. Josh poured on the speed, breath coming in desperate gasps and feet kicking up dead leaves and pine needles. The bag thumped on his back with each stride, and he wished it wasn't so heavy. But, there was nothing he could afford to toss out to lighten the load. All he could do was to keep running, trying not to trip over stray rocks or roots.

Josh didn't know how long he had been running when a twisted log suddenly appeared in his path. In his desperation to get as far away from his parents as possible, he hadn't noticed it until it was less than a foot away from him.  His feet scrambled to launch him over, but his liftoff was too late and too weak. His ankle smacked into the log with a sickening crack, and he pitched forward with a shocked squeak, throwing his arms out in front of him. He landed with a thud, crushed under the weight of his bag.

He lay there for a couple minutes, just trying to breathe, but the pain from his right ankle constricted his chest. It had to be sprained, or broken, or, or _something_ just as bad. Josh knew this was more than just a twisted or bruised ankle.

Eventually he managed to pull himself up into a sitting position, letting his bag flop off his shoulders. He leaned back against that stupid log, stretching his leg out before him. It throbbed sharply as he rummaged through the bag with shaky hands. He knew he had ace bandages in there somewhere.

Finally, he found them, and placed them on the ground beside him. He rolled up his pant leg, whimpering when his fingers brushed against his already swelling ankle. He steeled himself as he unlaced his shoe, biting his lip to keep from crying out. Agony lanced up his right side, causing him to whimper. Josh peeled his sock off next, but that was much less painful than the shoe. The sight of his foot, which was already swelling and turning purple, made him grimace. He eased his ankle to the ground, barely managing to choke back a scream when just putting the slightest amount of weight on it sent another round of pain shooting up his body.

Still biting his lip and trying not to make much noise in case somebody was nearby, Josh peeled a length of the bandage up off the roll without tearing it off just yet. He began to wind it around, beginning near the ball of his foot. He didn't know much about how to wrap a sprained ankle, but he remembered a few things from when he was a Boy Scout for a few brief years in his childhood. He made his way down towards his heel and ankle, trying to wrap it just right. Too loose wouldn't do anything, and too tight would cut off the circulation in his foot. It was hard to concentrate on the tightness of the wrapping when it was all he could do to not scream out in pain, but he did his best.

He wrapped it up to a bit above his ankle, and tore the bandage so that it was no longer attached to the roll. Josh patted the bandage down with as much pressure as he dared, getting the dangling edge to stick and not flap around. He rolled up his sock and slid it on over his toes, carefully unrolling it so that his fingers never actually touched his foot. With hitched breaths, Josh looked at his shoe. He wasn't sure he would be able to get it on, what with how badly his ankle was throbbing. He couldn't just roll up his shoe like a sock, though he wished he could.

Josh grabbed a random stick that was laying off to the side. It was dirty, and probably had all sorts of nasty things crawling all over it, but he shook it a couple times stuck it between his teeth anyway and grabbed his shoe. He unlaced it almost all the way, pulling the opening as wide as it could go. Easing his foot slowly into the shoe, his teeth clenched down on the stick with every throb of his ankle. He'd always seen book or movie characters doing something like this to distract themselves from pain. All it did was fill his mouth with a dry, woody flavor and make his teeth ache. It was slightly distracting, he'd give the method that much, but it wasn't really helping.

A particularly sharp throb made Josh's somewhat steady fingers fumble. His shoe jerked upwards and his wrists bumped his ankle. Just that one touch sent fresh waves of shooting pain up his body, probably the worst he'd felt so far.

_Dammit, it's just a broken or fucking sprained ankle, you've had worse, get it together you whiny fucking baby,_ Josh yelled at himself, even as pain-induced tears streaked down his face. He was pretty sure the stick was starting to crack between his teeth.

He managed to pull his stupid shoe on without any further mishaps, though his ankle still hurt like a bitch. Josh didn't even bother to fully lace it up, pulling the laces through a couple pairs of eyelets before giving up and tying them into a half-assed bow. He glared at the offending object on his injured foot, putting his bag back on his shoulders and spitting the nasty stick out of his mouth.

Josh slowly pulled himself upwards, using the log he had tripped over to keep his balance. He wasn't going to risk putting any weight on his injured foot yet. Once he was up enough, he sat back on the log and blew out an exhausted breath. So, this was what running away was like. Shitty, painful, and dirty, but... Still better than what he'd come from. 

He sat there for a couple minutes, catching his breath and trying to calm down. He'd probably distanced himself far enough from his family by now, and it wouldn't be long until he reached  town.

Scattered around the log—which was likely a fallen tree—were several sticks of varying length and thickness. Maybe he could try to use two of them as makeshift crutches. His balance was questionable at best, especially with an injured ankle, and he definitely wouldn't be able to hop his way towards town with one leg without either looking like an idiot or hurting himself further. Josh rolled one of the longer sticks toward him with his left foot, bending down to grab it. He tested its sturdiness, finding that it probably would be able to support him. It didn't take long to find another that was of similar length and durability, and he supported himself with the two sticks as he eased himself up off the log. He made sure his injured foot stayed off the ground, to avoid making the pain even worse than it already was. If he didn't know better, he would think it couldn't get any worse. But, he knew that it could _always_ get worse. Always. 

Josh used the sticks in a similar manner to crutches, planting their ends firmly on the forest floor and using his good leg to do a sort of hop-swing forward. It wasn't entirely functional, as the rough bark dug and chafed on his hands, and he couldn't get a strong grip on them, but it wasn't like he could just pull a pair of crutches out of his bag. First of all, they wouldn't fit, and second, where the hell would he even get those in the first place? He wasn't exactly one to try and steal from a hospital. 

After a couple minutes, Josh found a path leading in the direction he needed to go. He started moving a little faster once on it, due to the ground actually being flat and predictable. There was no need to make sure he wasn't putting the end of the stick in a hole.

He had to take a couple of breaks as he traveled, when the pain of his ankle threatened to make him pass out or the bark of the sticks was digging too much into his palms. Luckily, the pain from his ankle was starting to fade as Josh trekked through the woods, allowing him to push it to the back of his mind and keep moving.

He barely noticed the trees thinning, but when he did, he looked up to see he was right on the edge of town. There weren't many people out yet, since the sun was still bathing the earth in its early morning golden glow. A few joggers and people walking their dogs peppered the streets, but that was it.

From where he stood, he could see the café, with its bright pastel blue overhang and the couple of tables and chairs out in front. Josh squinted, and saw a black sedan in the parking lot. That had to be Mr. Toro; he always got to the café early in the morning to help with making the pastries and getting the place ready for the day.

Josh stayed in the forest as he made his way over to the café. Going on the sidewalks would be faster and much easier, but he really didn't want to get stared at. 

He still caught some stares, as he wasn't really trying to conceal himself, and the sound of him crunching through the woods on the dead leaves wasn't exactly quiet. But he ignored it, passing behind other stores and restaurants until he reached the back of the café. Now that he could see the whole parking lot, he noticed that Mr. Toro's car was the only one there. So, he was opening up by himself today.

Transferring one of the sticks to his other hand, he pulled his bag off his back, sighing as the weight left his shoulders. He dug around in the smaller pockets, looking for his key to the cafe. Josh was so focused on trying to keep his balance and to find the key that he barely heard the door open.

"Oh, Josh, what are you doing out here?"

The sound of Mr. Toro's surprised voice sent Josh reeling. He flinched violently out of instinct and shock, stumbling backwards on only one foot. That obviously didn't end well; Josh hopped precariously for a few moments, cursing and flailing his arms before losing his footing and falling flat on his ass. 

His injured ankle had bumped against the ground as he fell, and was hurting so bad Josh's teeth were chattering and his hands were shaking. He leaned back on his elbows, keeping his foot lifted off the ground as he waited for both the pain and his fear to subside. 

"Holy—shit, Josh, are you okay? What the hell happened?" Mr. Toro's concerned voice distracted Josh from his ankle, and he looked up at his worried boss. 

"U-uh, hurt m-my ank-kle," Josh stammered, cursing his stutter for acting up when he really didn't want it to. Any time he felt anything other than perfectly okay, his voice cracked and repeated words and syllables. It was awful and made him sound like an idiot. 

"Right... now?" Mr. Toro questioned, sounding confused.

"N-no, um... Earlier..." he mumbled, feeling kind of embarrassed that out of all ways he could get hurt, he tripped over a log like the clumsy idiot he was.

"Seriously, what happened to you? You look like you spent the night in the woods. And not in the hipster-trying-to-become-one-with-nature way."

Josh could only look at the ground, chewing his lip. He was suddenly all too aware of how he looked at the moment.  He was probably covered in smudges of dirt, likely with tear tracks running down his face. Barely noticeable stings on his face told him he probably had small cuts and scrapes from crashing through the woods like a madman. Basically, he looked like shit.

"No... You didn't... Here, come inside. Can you stand?" Mr. Toro asked, his voice softer and quieter than usual.

Josh thought for a moment, before shaking his head abashedly. "C-can't put my f-foot on the gr-ground," he stuttered, voice cracking. 

Mr. Toro carefully helped Josh up, kneeling down on Josh's good side and allowing him to lean on him as he stood. The taller man also put a steadying hand on Josh's back, keeping it there until he was able to stand. 

"Okay, let's just go inside. I'll get your bag for you," he said.

"No, n-no, Mr. T-toro, you, you don't h-ha—" 

"Josh, you can barely stand on your own. It's okay, I can get it. Also, how many times do I have to tell you? Just call me Ray." He finished speaking with a light tone, giving Josh a friendly but concerned smile. 

Josh just nodded, focused on trying to make his way to the building with Ray's help. Thankfully, it didn't take much time or pain. The break room was also right next to the cafe's backdoor, which was helpful, to say the least. 

"Sit. I'll go get your bag, and then you can tell me what happened," Ray said, stepping away from Josh once he was sure he wasn't going to fall over without somebody helping him. 

Josh flopped onto the break room's sofa gracelessly, setting the sticks on the ground by his feet. All of the adrenaline from earlier drained out of his body, leaving him exhausted and vaguely shaky. He rubbed at his face, his fingers coming away smudged with dirt and flecks of dried blood. So he really did look like shit. 

He looked up as Ray came back inside the room and set the bag down next to the sofa. Josh briefly pondered how to begin. "So, uh, you know how I s-sometimes, like, unexpectedly can't come in, and I can only work weird ho-hours..." A nod. Josh licked his lips. "Yeah. I'm sorta, uh, not really, um, supposed to have this job? I'm really only supposed to, to be working at that grocery st-store down the street. But, m-my parents, they sorta take all the money I make from that job, and, um..." Josh swallowed, his throat clicking. He looked down. "T-they're not exactly, uh, parents of the year, if you get what I'm saying." His voice was quiet now, and he rubbed his hands together nervously.

Ray's expression softened as he realized what Josh was implying. His voice was soft and gentle when he spoke. "Josh. You don't have to keep talking if you don't want."

Josh shook his head dismissively. "Nah. I-it's fine. So, I kept my job here a secret, and hid as much money as I could. I couldn't come in sometimes, because, uh, they were getting suspicious. If, if they found out about m-my job here... You'd prob'ly be reading articles about my death." He paused, wincing at Ray's sharp intake of breath. "Over the past... Years, I guess. I can't really remember... I started hiding things in the bag." He gave his bulging bag a pointed glance. "All to, um, prepare, I guess." He cracked his knuckles, a nervous habit he'd picked up over the years.

"Prepare for... what?" Ray asked, even though it seemed like he already knew the answer, what with the look he was giving Josh.

Josh swallowed again. "Running a-away. I was, ah, done with my parents' shit, to put it l-lightly," he said,  laughing humorlessly. "And here I am. With a broken goddamn ankle."

"You think it's broken? And, sorry, but what were you planning to do once you got out? You're only seventeen, if I remember correctly. You can't get an apartment at your age, if you even had enough money in the first place."

Josh flinched slightly at Ray's somewhat berating tone. "Y-yeah, I'm, I'm not even sure if it's broken? I, I just tripped over a log trying to, t-to get away and I just wrapped it up 'cause that was all I could think to do, all I really _could_ do, and,  I didn't really h-have anything planned, I guess I would just, just live on the streets for a while, until, I, I dunno, had a steady source of income at least? I d-don't really know, I, I..." He trailed off, barely realizing he was rambling. A habit he had picked up when fumbling to try to explain himself to get out of his parents' punishments. Josh also hadn't realized that his breathing was speeding up, and he had wrapped his arms around his middle, starting to rock slowly back and forth. It was one of the signs that he was about to have an anxiety attack.

He tried to slow his breathing, and put his head in his hands. Josh dragged in a shaky but deep breath, and looked back up hesitantly.

Ray dragged a hand over his face, looking down at the floor. "Shit, this is worse than I thought," he murmured. "Here, I, ah, know a little bit about, uh, medical stuff..." He kneeled down in front of Josh. "Can I take a look at it?"

Josh nodded, steeling himself as Ray untied his shoe and gently slipped it off. The pain came back full force as his shoe slid off, but Josh only bit his lip, keeping quiet and watching as Ray took off his sock and began to undo the sloppy bandages. He left them on the floor below Josh's foot, and looked over his swollen, purpling ankle.

"Hmm. From what I can tell, it's probably sprained. I'm not all that experienced but..." Ray trailed off, pausing to think. "My friend is a doctor. You know Patrick, that short guy who sometimes comes in and performs on open mic nights? With the real powerful voice? That's him. I can probably call him, see if he'd come over.."

Josh nodded, relieved it wasn't a complete stranger. He didn't really know Patrick well, but he always made sure he was there on nights Patrick was performing. He was easily everyone's favorite on open mic nights.

"Alright," Ray said, pulling out his phone and typing something into it. "I'm gonna put it on speaker. You're probably gonna have to describe everything to him, and I don't know what the pain is like, so." As he finished speaking, Ray tapped something on the screen. Probably the call button.

The low, droning ringback tone played as they waited for Patrick to pick up. Josh fiddled with the sleeve of his coat, picking at a dangling thread. After waiting for what seemed like forever, they heard the click of the phone being picked up.

"Who 's it?" A gravelly, tired voice answered, one that definitely wasn't Patrick.

"Ray Toro. Is Patrick there?"

"'Mm, yeah. Hol' on... 'S Ray Toro?" The speaker called out to assumedly Patrick, obviously holding the receiver away from his mouth.

Josh heard Patrick's voice, quiet and thick with sleep but definitely his. " _Gimme that_ , Pete. Prob'ly important." Then, his voice was clearer, though still thick and somewhat irritated. "Ray, there better be a damn good reason you're calling at the asscrack of dawn."

Josh held back a snort. Patrick virtually never cursed, at least during all the time Josh had been around him. Apparently, he didn't care to put a filter on his mouth in the morning.

"Uh, yeah, you need to come down to the shop. Medical reasons. Sprained, possibly broken ankle," Ray explained.

There was a dry laugh. "Cafés are just, just so dangerous. May I ask how somebody managed to hurt their ankle in a damn café? And I need to talk to whoever managed to do that so I know what to bring."

Ray passed the phone over to Josh. "Uh, hi Patrick. It's sort of, uh, a long story? One that I'd rather _not_ tell?"

"Josh? Is that you? Shouldn't, shouldn't you be at... Eh, whatever. What's the ankle look like? How's it feel? How long has it been since you first hurt it?" Patrick fired off the questions, suddenly speaking faster.

"Uh, it's all swollen and bruised, some darker blackish bruising down towards the heel... Pretty painful whenever it's moved, or touched. I-it's pretty much constantly throbbing. Uh, it's probably been... an hour? I dunno. Long enough for it to not hurt that much when it's still."

"Mmkay. I've gotta get ready, and find all my stuff, so I'll be there in... An hour tops maybe? Prop your foot up on something and just, like, put an ice pack on the swelling. See ya." With that, Patrick hung up abruptly.

"Never knew Patrick was a doctor," Josh said, handing Ray back his phone.

"He doesn't actually work in a doctor's office. He's more of an on-call doctor, doesn't bother with any of the official stuff. I figured you'd be more comfortable with somebody that wouldn't try to contact your parents."

Josh nodded gratefully. "Thanks. That's, uh, that's really helpful."

Ray nodded once. "I'll go get an ice pack for your ankle. Put it up on the couch for now," he said, turning to leave the room.

Josh turned his body slowly, easing himself backwards so his back was resting on one end of the couch. He brought his leg up slowly to rest it on a pillow, wincing in pain the whole time. He almost whimpered when he had to set it down, but he kept silent once Ray walked back into the room with a cloth and a bag of ice. The cloth was set over his ankle, and Josh gritted his teeth as the weight of the ice was enough to make it hurt worse.

"I'm gonna finish opening up. If you need anything, just call for me. Try to take a nap, or something. Just stay in here for now."

Josh nodded in affirmation. Normally, he would practically force Ray to let him help, but sleeping on a rock, injuring himself, and being close to a damn panic attack three times in the past ten hours really took a toll on his energy. He was already fighting to keep his eyes open.

As soon as Ray left, Josh let his eyes slip shut and let himself fall into a restless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sup its me doing the thing i thought i wasnt gonna do for this fic lmaoooo. i spent like two hours editing this chapter wtf why did it take so long im so confused honestlyyyy. like ive been workin on this little shit since about 11:00 pm and its almost 1:00 am. and yes patrick is a little shit in the morning. hes going to always a little shit in this fic bc hes a short man and short people are filled with RAGE. i am a short people believe me im constantly angery. but patrick will also be very nice and the Pure Boy everyone knows him as. what is grammar  
> anyway i hope u enjoy kudos and comments are always appreciated (and lowkey what motivates me to write. im completely serious. i read through all my comments (on all my works) yesterday and it lowkey made me cry everyone on here is so nice and supportive how r u all so positive omg  
> have a nice day!! if u want to contact me outside of here my tumblr is thedeathofabachelor.tumblr.com ok bye love u all

**Author's Note:**

> helo its me again, the shittiest person ever, with another story i'll probably never finish. ha! i hate myself! anyway i only put this out there to gauge people's reactions. if ppl like it, i'll complete it and then figure out a posting schedule. if ppl don't like it, then this story is going in the trash never to be spoken of again (like my motivation and self worth)  
> my tumblr: http://thedeathofabachelor.tumblr.com
> 
> chapter and fic title from 15 Dreams by New Politics
> 
> have a nice day. if u want. not gonna force u to have a nice day if u dont want to have a nice day
> 
> bye
> 
> EDIT: hello it's me from the grave. i've just edited the first chapter and plan to publish the second chapter because i feel REALLY bad for making ppl wait. all i've done to this chapter is refined it and added some details (abt 300 words were added if ur curious). if you're reading this after today (july 24th 2016) then u can completely ignore this. thanks have a nice day


End file.
